


Ichor

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Genji Shimada has a Vagina, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Introspection, M/M, Mutual Disdain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Despite Hanzo’s attempts to wash away the torturous thoughts that plagued him daily, the sake always slid down his throat hateful and bitter." 
 Hanzo and Genji have trouble moving on from the past.





	1. Looking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introductory chapter, very short compared to the rest of the fic.
> 
> Please heed the warnings.

Hanzo spent longer than he’d ever admit to himself or the gods looking, staring at his brother. His brother’s body was a taboo topic for him to never directly address, he’d mentally vowed to himself. Hearing Genji’s voice so metallic, artificially projected from whatever technological contraption within that tangled mass of flesh and hard plating— bile rose from Hanzo’s stomach whenever he put himself through the process of judging his brother once more. 

The arduous system of structured, moral judgement upon an abomination that should have stayed dead. He blinked away the pain; he decided the human soul was too feeble to wrestle such things.

His looks of disdain were often returned as well as one could feel from a visor being pointed their way. No words. The gentle breeze of Japanese mountain air. Dim hums and slight whirs of a complex mechanical rig, merely existing so noisily.  


The two of them agreed that it was important to at least attempt reconciliation so that their own personal misconceptions and emotional baggage could be tossed aside. The day had passed since they took stay in a private settlement among the Sanuki mountains. Late night was no unmovable force for endless introspection. Hanzo had sat himself out on the balcony under full moon, alone so that he could once more fall into deep thought. Slowly but surely, he lost himself.

Genji had thrown a wrench in Hanzo’s pilgrimage. He’d spent no less than ten miserable years, guilt dragging his feet forward, throwing him at the mercy of the world in meaningless attempts to sling him out of the burden the Shimada clan had cursed him with. His confusion was insurmountable and without any answers to turn to for guidance, his mind soured. The sides of himself constantly fought the other; he didn’t know whether to truly be grateful for his brother’s survival, or utterly infuriated that he had spent so long honoring a man who was not truly dead.

 _No, it was not his death that I must atone for,_ he argued with himself, _it was the attack. The gesture of even attempting to kill him._

He’d told himself that ever since the night Genji had revealed himself to fight off the instinctive flashes of anger, but his advice always fell short upon him with each short curt response from Genji, increasing the distance between them.

He could sense his brother’s presence behind him approaching, his gaze felt but not seen, glaring daggers into his back.


	2. He Who Makes You Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said it was going to be 2000 words? Turned out to be 1000. 
> 
> This is a reminder that this is not going to be a feel-good or generally pleasant fic.

There were no words that could ever describe what Genji felt for his life and his brother. Many years did he train under the Nepali mountains under masterful eyes, (bless the ground that Zenyatta graces with his presence), but he found that burning passion from his life before was passed down to the present, years upon years of ire bubbling within him, scorching his mind and body. He’d perfected the way he looked at his brother—through narrowed eyes even behind his visor. Subconsciously, he’d hoped that Hanzo would engage a conflict. That would’ve been fine. He was ready enough.

 

The snow of Nepal had done nothing for how cold he’d already become. 

 

Their interactions together were brief at best. Stagnancy heavily thickened the atmosphere between the two of them even as they attempted meditation together—Hanzo chalked it up to the spirits of the mountain being uneasy that day. A quiet scoff from Genji. As if the spirits were an easy escape route to take for the circumstances that sat so blatantly between them.

They ate their meals together in quiet discussion. The bulk of the conversations were Genji recalling his experiences with the Omnic monks, the Overwatch squadron, his doctor, all in scattered tangents. It wasn’t difficult to coax Genji into talking as he was naturally a chatterbox, but what brought him ease about it was that he didn’t have to directly interact with Hanzo. He merely reached into his mind and laid out his memories before them both, almost fondly. 

A faint smile had spread across his face until he noted Hanzo’s discomfort upon mentioning the Shimada clan’s scattering after Overwatch established influence. He knew the workings of Hanzo’s mind well enough to draw an accurate conclusion; Hanzo remembered how he’d abandoned his clan after striking down his brother and felt guilt at the crumbling remains he left behind. Bitterness churned in Genji’s stomach.

“So simple,” he whispered to himself —that had dragged Hanzo out of his selfish introspection. He was forced to face how the conversation had come to a blunt stop and for a moment, Genji hoped that pitiful expression on his face was of a different kind of guilt.

 

_Care about someone else’s feelings for once, Hanzo._

 

==

 

They slept in the same room, in separate futon. Genji was always the last one to fall asleep, he wouldn’t allow himself to be so vulnerable around him yet. It was a moment from their past he knew well, watching Hanzo doze off into slumber slowly, gradually, until his chest rumbled with a gentle snore. The memory was enough to bring Genji to smile.  
The moonlight danced across their sleeping chambers through the tremble of trees swaying in the late-night breeze freely permeating the room. For a moment, he could no longer see his brother with outright disdain under such beauties of nature. 

Hanzo with his limbs unceremoniously sprawled about inside his bed, the idle rustle of leaves, the distant cries of summer cicadas. He remembered many times as a child where he experienced the same blissful night.

In its own way, it soothed his anger if not just for the night but with the absence of his aggression, something darker took familiar residence in his heart.

The longer he watched Hanzo, the more the sounds of the night grew louder in his mind in a cacophonous whir, dully pounding in his head. He attempted to mouth the words to a mantra, but it fell mute halfway—his brain grew cold and black.

He’d had experienced this intensity of psyche before, but only then was he unprepared to deal with it. Hanzo was never physically there with him, never so vulnerable, so helpless to what really sat festering within Genji’s core. He’d hoped that so many years of training and searching had banished such iniquity from his body, but he supposed this experience was only evidence that the endeavors to change his heart were only destined to be smothered.

Mechanical fingers drew in on themselves in loose fists on his lap. 

He could taste Hanzo’s tongue in his mouth, down his throat again.

His throat tightened, he swallowed. He could no longer tolerate his inner turmoil and stood, walked to the balcony so that he could focus on the moon dimly peeking from behind a cloud. It must have been an omen.

His fingers burned when he folded them to pray.

Genji spent his time of the night calming the storm within him. He counted each leaf out loud to himself as they blew past them one by one; it was only until leaf 341 did it register with him that Hanzo’s snoring had stopped. He looked over his shoulder to see his brother sitting up in his futon, black hair disheveled and obscuring most of his features in the shadow Genji cast. Eyes were on him without a doubt.

“Get your rest, brother,” Genji muttered. “We train tomorrow. You should know by now that I don’t plan to go easy on you, and I won’t accept anything less than your peak performance.” 

His reaction was delayed and initially only rewarded with a meek scratching of the back of his head as if he were embarrassed of something. Under the expressionless gaze of Genji’s visor, he turned his head away. 

A pin-prick of disgust shot up Genji’s throat. How could a man capable of committing such awful acts still feel something like shame? He squirmed underneath his brother’s scrutiny and it only made his distaste for him even more acidic.

“On nights like these, when I can’t sleep,” Hanzo began finally, hesitantly,” I have a bit to drink before I doze off again. You should join me.” 

 

The offer almost sounded as if it were dragged out of him. He couldn’t help but imagine their father scolding Hanzo for being a bad brother and commanding him to make amends somehow. He knew he was trying in his own strange Hanzo sort of way, but it left him tangled inside.

Genji turned on his haunches and clicked the notches behind his ears, or where they’d be if he still had them, removing his visor. Hanzo’s brow never failed to draw together in conflict upon seeing his brother’s marred, disfigured face but in that moment, he did so with a twinge of apprehension once he recognized a vague smile on Genji’s face.

“Very well. Let us drink together, brother. To the future, right?” 

Genji would not let what happened go.


	3. Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza, it finally updated! Never forgot about it, just had to get to a comfortable point where I could end it... Here's where it gets really heavy and the tags become important.

Laughter.

For the first time since their reunion, he’d heard Genji laugh. 

Hanzo wasn’t certain of its authenticity, seeing as he would always loosen up with a bit of alcohol. He was relieved to hear that childish laugh after so long, it was easier to let his shoulders relax. Tension between them was always so high, as if they’d attack each other any moment after a remark too snide to tolerate.

 

“And so the doctor told me, ‘another comment like that and I’ll have you looking like one of our other more /ghostly/ patients’,” Genji spoke in a German accented falsetto, “She was referring to the one they call The Reaper, I think. They call him a monster! I would’ve pissed myself right there if my bladder wasn’t lying next to me on another table then.”

Genji chuckled to himself and took another drink of sake. Hanzo fought with his tongue on how to respond, but his determination fizzled out quickly, decided to say nothing. He couldn’t quite digest the mental image of his brother’s mangled body with his organs neatly organized about him, not as if he could easily separate the source of his injuries. His stomach turned.

How Genji could speak so light of what happened bewildered him. He couldn’t complain, he and his brother were two different men and reacted on opposite sides of the spectrum. Hanzo was more in tune with his emotions whereas Genji was the more rational of the two. Perhaps he’d rationalized everything that had happened over the years despite his sour attitude at times, came to terms with them. He could only hope so. Hiding behind his own shame to escape Genji’s retaliation felt cowardly of him, but his words felt so far away from reaching him.

Nothing he could say to him would suffice, it would only be a disrespect to Genji’s honor as his brother.

Facing the truth in an honorable method was truly a test of his willpower and with another dizzying drink of sake, Hanzo decided that he was more or less still weak. At the end of the day, he was mad at the world for being a man so stagnant within his own heart, the world and his brother progressing without him.

Sitting next to his only family left, Hanzo felt so very alone and powerless to the fate of the universe, a mere toy in the paws of some cruel cat. Alcohol was the only companion he kept close, the only thing he trusted. It was easier to navigate his mind and force it into relative silence as he fell into a drunken stupor same as the last, but it’d never truly stop. Seeing his brother smiling and talking so much about his life before, Hanzo knew he would never find peace so long as he did not comprehend. He could never understand Genji. It angered him deep down; he was truly pathetic.

“Forget about the match tomorrow,” Hanzo muttered loud enough to catch his attention. “Just look at me, I’m in no shape to fight you like this.”

As if his surrender was an insult to him, Genji cocked an eyebrow up at him. “You act as if you’d be fighting me still drunk. You offered to drink with me, so here I am. You don’t have to give up immediately. Does your self-pity know no bounds?”

 

_Of course not,_ his mind bitterly barked back. 

 

Hanzo could only sigh and run a hand wearily through his disheveled hair. “If you only knew, Genji. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to enjoy the company of another like this, I’d like to savor it while I can. In peace… without anything to worry about for a while.”

“So that means you’ll get piss drunk to avoid battle.” A scoff. Hanzo couldn’t tell if it was as serious as it seemed, but shame creeped up his spine all the same. “You’re lucky I’ve become generous, anija.”

 

_'Anija, anija.’_

 

The familiar name rolled itself over in Hanzo’s mind and soothed him, felt sweet on his ears. Tasted better than the sake in his belly. It evoked a warmth within him he hadn’t felt in several years that he eagerly welcomed. 

The gentle breeze of Hanamura’s spring air carried the ringing of the bell almost as if it were materialized from his memories. He could picture it perfectly: He and his father going for a stroll across the campus beneath the outstretched passage overlooking the garden. 

Genji relaxing in the flowerbeds.

He looked back at his brother with some tragic expression as if verifying his presence next to him still, exchanged glances clumsily and shook his head. The memory was almost too much to bear. Something of his past he’d thrown away so quickly, something he would’ve never known how much he’d come to cherish.

“You spoil me even now. I don’t deserve this.”

Something about Genji’s expression was off; something about the indescribable mix of his expression worried Hanzo. He almost looked as if he wanted to say “you’re right.” Perhaps the blurring of his vision assisted the deeper sense of concern.

“You pity yourself more than any other man could,” came his dreaded response. Hanzo’s stomach sank deep in his gut and he sighed, couldn’t stand looking at him any further. He knew his place. He downed back another cup of sake and relished the way it burned. It was cheap product for a body unworthy.

Hanzo felt the rough pat of his brother’s hand on his back– his shoulders tensed instinctively, shocking him through his buzz, only to be met with a frustrated grunt and Genji muttering something about “getting to sleep already.” He wouldn’t turn down the suggestion, sleep was looking more and more promising the usual swarm of negativity in his mind calmed to its more pleasant hum of acceptance. The quiet truth of his own worth as irredeemable comforted him better than any blanket. 

Setting his head back down on his pillow, Hanzo watched the world’s churning slow, his eyelids heavy and his sight wavering. He fell back into the sweet arms of his next best escape from reality, slumber. It would never reject him.

 

———--------–

 

Hanzo would never forget the taste of flesh; tender, dirty flesh he’d ripped from another and claimed as his own in an act of sin. The grinding of his muscle on another’s body giving way to him, pumping his body thick and full of a transitory sense of dominance. Power. The friction of hip bones against each other. The protests of someone truly innocent to his intentions.

His senses haunted him, only further more when his conscience shoved his own guilt back in his face. He’d hurt someone in ways no one could recover from so easily. Another ghost of his past.

 

_“You’ll never know what it’s like.”_

 

Hanzo’s body stirred. He felt weighted and heavy from sleep, it was difficult to breathe with the force on his chest. He strained to inhale, but his consciousness didn’t quite reach him.

 

_“You broke me.”_

 

A ghost brought to life in its most grotesque form.

Something thick pried his lips open and invaded his mouth with a dirty slickness he could not comprehend in his daze. The taste was laden with the sweet taste of alcohol, familiar and kind sake, but more heavily masked by an indescribable flavor he hadn’t experienced in years.

Its smoothness made long strokes in his mouth and lightly writhed– the realization that it was a tongue threw him into the harsh world of awakening, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. Hanzo’s throat hummed with the intention to speak, but it hadn’t clicked with him that he was incapable of proper speech.

Someone was kissing him, something was being done to his body in his sleep.

His mind ran frantic, he willed his body and arms to struggle underneath the weight with no progress; it was another person’s body, someone was holding him down. His chest heaving with panicked breaths, he wrenched his head back to break their mouths apart only to feel teeth clamping down on the skin of his neck like a beast.

“Stop– ” His voice came out instead as a hoarse slur, he hadn’t broken free of the claims of sleep completely. He could barely see anything among the whir of the world, it only adding to the terror setting in.

 

“You did this to me,” came the voice again. Pure adrenaline coursed throughout his veins. It was Genji’s voice. “12 years old,” he hissed in his ear and bit down again.

 

Hanzo was instantly launched into what felt like another dimension of horrible emotions ripping him apart, visions of pain and distress came to him in waves and as Genji nipped and sucked at his skin. He had all of his physical strength, he was uninjured and yet, he could not fight back. The image of his little brother cowering beneath him with his face covered in snot and tears burned itself in Hanzo’s mind.

Anxiety pricked itself hard in the back of his mind until he was practically hyperventilating, on the verge of tears, the breath ripped from his chest. The worst aspect he noted was that he knew he had no real reason to cry, no right to feel guilt when he was the one who’d harmed Genji in such a way along with everything else. He’d brought upon his brother’s wrath by his own hand. Somehow he felt it was suiting.

The words “I’m sorry” formed on his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. A horrid, strangled sob was all that escaped him.

“Always the victim, eh, Hanzo? Your guilt hurts so bad, does it? Don’t make me fucking laugh.” The weight on Hanzo’s torso shifted high on his chest, almost on his throat. “Open your mouth.”

Something plush and slick with sweet fluids pressed to Hanzo’s lips. Immediately he knew and flattened his mouth into a taut line, shaking his head and still protesting, anything to stop him, but his head was jerked back. His lips were pried open and Genji’s taste invaded his mouth once more.

“Just couldn’t resist forcing your way inside your little brother, huh? Wanted to see how smooth and silky he was inside before everyone else?” Genji’s voice came as a malicious sneer almost inside his head, a force so piercing and intrusive it shook him to his core. His hips ground down hard on Hanzo’s mouth without any care, blocking his airways and suffocating him. 

“You seek redemption? What a useless thing to want. You’ll sooner hang yourself before you get it from me.”  
In the throes of fear, something burned white hot inside Hanzo. There was so much he’d done, it crushed him like the weight upon him but for once, he didn’t feel defeated. He knew he was alone in this twisted world with what used to be his brother. Their entire family was dead, there was nothing to guide them forward in life but each other.

 

And there they were.

 

He understood. 

Redemption was pointless at that point in his life, he’d forever live with what he’d done. There was nothing to change the past and he’d continue to be eaten up by his own guilt if he still sat in it. How he lived like that for years, he’d never know.

The clit in his mouth throbbed hard, a profound revulsion gurgled from Hanzo’s gut and he glanced up at him with hatred in his eyes. His gaze was returned with a sweet smile from his brother and it was as if he saw the change in him as it was happening.

For the first time since their reunion, Genji’s words truly resonated with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Oniswan@Tumblr/Twitter


End file.
